


all these years

by darkcyan



Series: Tumblr Fics [6]
Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 03:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7491726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkcyan/pseuds/darkcyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Deputy Headmistress places the Sorting Hat on Seiji’s head, no more than a second passes before it shouts “SLYTHERIN!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	all these years

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a [prompt on tumblr](http://cyanmnemosyne.tumblr.com/post/137342436278/horrible-exorcists-hogwarts-au-matoba-is-the-only) that spiraled out of control. As usual. XD

When the Deputy Headmistress places the Sorting Hat on Seiji’s head, no more than a second passes before it shouts “SLYTHERIN!”

(Seiji has a deep vein of loyalty and protectiveness and stubborn dedication that would not be out of place in Hufflepuff; a great respect for and interest in knowledge that would not do him wrong in Ravenclaw.  But he knows his place, and he knows what he’s going to have to do to get there, and he does not regret the costs.  

Even at 11, his course is already set, and the Hat knows that the House best suited for him is also the only one he will accept.)

Shuuichi, now.  Scion of a house fully as old and prestigious as the Matobas -- but a squib branch of a family otherwise almost completely gone.  By Shuuichi’s parents’ generation, all that remained of magic in his family was a deep, abiding fear of the damage that it could do.  

Shuuichi, whose mother was a Muggle. (He thinks he remembers her as warm, and kind.) Who thought his family’s fear of magic was a ridiculous one, a fear of stories and of the coincidences that sometimes occurred in his presence, until his Hogwarts letter arrived, and his father was forced to explain at least something of their family history. 

Shuuichi, who spends every day from when he receives his letter to when he crosses over into Platform 9¾ reading and re-reading everything on magic he can find, determined not to be left behind.  Determined to make something of himself in this new world that he knows he’s unprepared for. 

The Hat spends a bit longer on him.  Thirst to prove himself, he has in spades, along with a somewhat reckless courage and a desire for straightforwardness (little as he’s willing to admit it to anyone but himself), that would not be completely out of place in Gryffindor.  And he’s more than proven himself as having a Ravenclaw’s willingness to study, though not quite their same love of knowledge for its own sake. 

The Hat knows too well what Slytherin can do to half-bloods, to children of squibs, to anyone who doesn’t meet with a narrow definition of ‘the right sort’ and doesn’t have sufficient force of personality to make them accept that ambition and power can be found in all sorts of places. 

Shuuichi does not lack in force of personality.  Still, the Hat hesitates.  “Are you sure?”

(He is best suited to Slytherin, yes. But.  He might be happier in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.)

“I’m sure,” Shuuichi thinks.

“Well then, better be SLYTHERIN.”

* * *

Shuuichi pointedly ignores the assessing stares, the not-quite-audible whispers, as they sit down to dinner.  It is not until they’ve been shown to the Slytherin dorms and given a brief rundown of the school rules that he feels a hand on his shoulder and whirls. 

“You’re Shuuichi Natori,” the boy -- he hadn’t caught the name -- says.  “Of _those_ Natoris?”

“And what if I am?”

The other boy leans in closer, but his words are pitched to be clearly audible to the rest of the room.  “We don’t like squibs, here.”

A Jelly-Legs Jinx hits Shuuichi from behind. 

Shuuichi whips his wand out and hits the boy in front of him with a Leg-Locker before, balance lost, he hits the ground.  He looks around for the person who jinxed him -- not difficult, he’s the only one with his wand out, staring blankly at his co-conspirator -- and hits him with one, too. 

Then he mutters the counter-jinx, stands, brushes imaginary dirt off his robes, and looks down at the first boy.  “Well, isn’t it a good thing that I’m not one, then?”

He stalks back to their dorm room and sits down on a bed -- his bed, now -- and only then lets himself sigh in relief.  He’d memorized the words, he’d practiced the wand movements, but that was the first time he’d actually cast anything.  What would have happened if he’d failed? 

_But I didn’t_ , he reminds himself. 

“Not half bad, what you did out there,” another voice says, smooth and amused, and Shuuichi stiffens. He’s got black hair only a bit longer than Shuuichi’s own and sharp eyes; he hadn’t participated in Shuuichi’s attempted humiliation, but neither had he shown any sign of wanting to help. 

(Not that Shuuichi had been looking for or had needed help.  He could do just fine on his own.  He had so far.)

“Seiji Matoba.” The other boy extends his hand.  “You’re from the squib branch, right?  You must not know a whole lot about the wizarding world.  I’d be happy to help.”

“Shuuichi Natori,” Shuuichi replies.  Thinks _not half bad_ , and wonders why it feels more like an insult than a compliment. Thinks, also, _What’s the price?_ “I think I’ll do fine on my own, thanks.”

Seiji’s small smile widens slightly, but it’s impossible to tell whether it’s in approval or if he’s just laughing at Shuuichi.  He lets his hand fall to his side, a naturally graceful movement, and shrugs.  “As you wish.” 

* * *

Shuuichi doesn’t know how it is in the other houses, but in Slytherin, a loose hierarchy has been established by the end of the second day, and cemented by the end of the first week. 

Seiji sits at the top, and Shuuichi doesn’t know whether that’s because of the weight of his family name -- even he is well aware that the Matobas are a house influential far beyond their Ancient and Noble status -- or simply because of that small smile and that blithe way of assuming that no one will cross him. 

(It drives Shuuichi nuts, but he can’t deny its effectiveness.)

Shuuichi … by all rights, as a halfblood child of squibs, as the scion of a mostly-dead house, he should be at the absolute bottom of the heap.  And yet.

Maybe it’s the way he showed, pointedly, that he could take care of himself. 

Maybe it’s the way Seiji shows no sign of treating him as anything lesser (or at least, no less than he treats everyone else); will, in fact, greet him cordially in the halls.  (Shuuichi grits his teeth and greets him cordially back -- he doesn’t know what Seiji’s game is, but it’s a good idea not to completely burn his bridges.  He has another seven years here, after all.)

But no one really messes with Shuuichi, except in tiny, plausibly deniable ways, or in out-of-the-way halls. 

And, well.  He _can_ take care of himself. 

So he stands in a strange, in-between place: less at the bottom of the hierarchy than outside it entirely.  And honestly, that suits him just fine.  

* * *

Shuuichi doesn’t make friends.  There are a handful of Ravenclaws he’ll share a study table with, and occasionally hold brief conversations with, always on the subject of schoolwork.  There’s a Gryffindor he sits next to in History of Magic; they have a silent pact to throw something if they catch each other napping.

And then there’s Seiji.  He’s not _always_ there, but often enough he is.  Offering a polite correction to Shuuichi’s wand motion, or a blandly delivered comment on the weather.  (Which, regardless of the season, is almost always awful.) Reacting with equal pleasantness to Shuuichi’s grit-teeth attempts at politeness and his blunt requests to just _back off_. 

(Eventually, Shuuichi stops even pretending to be polite, since it doesn’t seem to make a difference and there’s something almost ... comfortable, about not having to act.)

It all comes to a head as they prepare for year-end exams at the end of their first year.  Seiji offers one correction in passing too many, and Shuuichi rounds on him; says “And maybe you’d be better at --” there are plenty of options to choose from, so he just picks the spell they’ve been working on most recently in Charms “-- if your pronunciation wasn’t always a little bit off.”

There’s a beat of silence.  Shuuichi isn’t sure what he expects -- he’s been rude before, but rarely quite that confrontational, and he’s never challenged Seiji directly on his knowledge. 

It’s definitely not this, though:  Seiji blinks and tilts his head, his smile fading to something almost puzzled, and he says, “How should I pronounce it, then?”

* * *

Shuuichi takes home the highest grade in the year in Charms, Herbology, and History of Magic.  Seiji gets Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Potions.  They tie for Astronomy. 

_How’s that for ‘not half bad’?_ he thinks, as Seiji walks over to say goodbye to him after they disembark at King’s Cross. 

(Why he bothers, Shuuichi isn’t sure.)

“I hope you have a good summer,” Seiji says, smiles and grace as always.  “Thank you for your tips, before.  They were very helpful.”

Shuuichi feels suddenly, obscurely, ashamed.  “... Yeah.  Yours were too, I guess.” He hesitates, adds, “I’ll see you in September.”

Seiji’s smile widens.  “I look forward to it.”

* * *

It takes Shuuichi roughly ten minutes to remember why he hates being home.  His father has grown no friendlier towards magic, nor more resigned to the fact of his son having it, over the past months. 

“Slytherin, huh?” he says, looking at the green and silver that’s spread like a stain across Shuuichi’s belongings.  “Isn’t that where the worst of the lot go?”

Shuuichi finishes taking his things to his room -- this would be so much easier if he were allowed to use magic -- and takes great pleasure in slamming the door without replying. 

He’ll prove _that_ wrong, too.

* * *

Two days, and he gets his first owl from Seiji.  He regards the creature standing patiently on his windowsill -- as glossily black as its owner’s hair -- for a full thirty seconds before sighing and shaking his head. 

He really ought to have expected this. 

The letter is almost like being back at Hogwarts again, passing Seiji in the halls: polite commentary about the weather (currently awful in a hot sort of way), compliments on his end-of-term scores (they’ve already had this conversation), and a couple of questions about their summer assignments. 

Shuuichi considers shooting back a curt note to the effect that Seiji should know all these answers already (he should; Shuuichi does), but. 

It’s going to be a long summer. 

It’s not like he has anything better to do. 

So he writes his response -- yes, the weather is awful here too; here are my thoughts, shouldn’t you know this already?; p.s. what’s the owl’s name? -- and sends it off. 

* * *

Seiji tells Shuuichi in his next reply that the owl doesn’t have a name. 

“What do you think of Urihime?” he asks. 

She preens herself and ignores him, which he figures is good enough.

Urihime gets a lot of exercise that summer.

* * *

On the Express, Shuuichi settles into a compartment near the middle, alone except for his trunk.  If he’s lucky, no one will bother him.

So of course he’s barely had the time to lean back, kick up his feet, and find his spot in the book -- Transfiguration theory; he’ll need to brush up on it if he's going to have any chance of taking the top spot from Seiji -- when the compartment door slides open. 

It’s Seiji, of course, his wand settling gently onto his open palm. 

Shuuichi puts his book down.  “You did not seriously just do a _Point Me_.  Here?”

Seiji is, as always, unruffled.  “It was the most efficient means of finding you.”

He floats his trunk onto the rack beside Shuuichi’s -- why hadn’t he thought of that? -- and settles on the bench across from him.  “You raised some interesting points in our last letter, that I wished to discuss in further depth.” 

His gaze falls lightly on the book at Shuuichi’s side.  “That is a good beginner’s text.  I can recommend a few others, if you like?”

Of course Seiji’s read it before.  Shuuichi opens his mouth to blow him off, like he did all the previous year. 

But. 

He had not ... disliked their correspondence over the summer. 

And it would be a shame to cut the conversation short, when he had a few more points he’d like to make, too. 

So, “Sure,” he says instead, and “Thanks.”

* * *

Shuuichi doesn’t make friends, but when Seiji corrects him on his wand movement, he corrects him on his pronunciation.  Seiji comes to him with questions about Charms and Herbology, and he slowly starts asking his own about Transfiguration and Potions. 

When they choose Potions partners at the beginning of the year, Shuuichi finds himself with Seiji instead of the Hufflepuff he’d worked with in more-or-less companionable mostly-silence the year before.

The Ravenclaws who mostly populate Shuuichi’s favorite table in the library get used to seeing two Slytherins instead of one. 

Shuuichi doesn’t make friends, but Slytherin scuttlebutt -- which he pays as little attention to as he can get away with, but that’s rarely ‘none’ -- seems to have decided that he and Seiji are friends now, anyway. 

* * *

“Hey.  Shuuichi.”

It’s winter break, and the two of them are the only ones left in their dorm.  Seiji’s voice wafts through the darkness and Shuuichi considers for a moment pretending to be asleep already. Knowing Seiji, he’d see through the ruse.

“Yeah?”

“We’re all in Slytherin because we’re ambitious, right?  What’s your ambition?”

As Shuuichi blinks at the ceiling, thrown, Seiji continues, “It’s to restore your family name, right?  When we grow up, maybe I can help you with that.”

Shuuichi no longer asks the price for statements like that, even to himself.  Seiji uses people as easily as he condescends, and seems to see that as payment enough.  Shuuichi tolerates that sometimes, and refuses others, and Seiji never seems to mind.  So Shuuichi is slowly starting not to mind, either; it’s just the way Seiji is. 

In this case, it’s unnecessary.

“I couldn’t care less about my family name,” he answers honestly. 

He wants to prove himself, to show everyone that he -- the son of a squib and a Muggle -- deserves to be here just as much as everyone else.  Prove wrong the people who still occasionally whisper in corners when they think he cannot hear. 

Prove his father wrong, too.

But he feels about as much attachment to the Ancient and Noble House of Natori as it has ever demonstrated to him. 

“Be an Auror, maybe,” he says, to soften the harshness of that first statement.  “It would be nice if I could use everything I’ve learned to protect others.”

“How Gryffindor of you.”

Shuuichi considers throwing his pillow, but knowing Seiji, he’d keep it.  “Shut up.  And what’s _your_ ambition?”

A pause.  Surprised?  “I will be the next head of House Matoba.”

Shuuichi squints up at the dark ceiling.  “Yeah.  And?”  It wasn’t like it was precisely a secret that he was the heir. 

“I will successfully lead my House as its head.”

That hardly seems like an answer, either, but from the grim note in Seiji’s voice, Shuuichi can tell that _he_ thinks it answer enough.  “I’m sure you’ll make a fine head,” he says, instead of pushing further.

Another pause. “... Thanks.”

* * *

Shuuichi retains his top spot in History of Magic.  Seiji keeps his at Defense Against the Dark Arts, though only by the slimmest of margins.  They tie for highest score at everything else. 

They talk -- argue, really -- the entire ride back to King’s Cross, and Urihime is waiting with a new letter almost before Shuuichi finishes unpacking. 

This summer feels like it’ll be shorter than the last.

* * *

Third year, Shuuichi takes Arithmancy and Ancient Runes; Seiji Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures.

(”Maybe I should take Muggle Studies,” Seiji had said, flopping across Shuuichi’s bed in a move that seemed calculated to annoy him.  “It might help me understand you better.”

“Shut up,” Shuuichi had replied, and pushed him off.

Seiji had laughed, unexpected and bright.)

It’s ... strange, to have a class without Seiji in it.  He turns, sometimes, expecting to see him there, and steadfastly refuses to admit that it feels a bit empty when he’s not. 

They still study together for everything else.  A couple of the Ravenclaws Shuuichi sits with in the library are also taking Arithmancy, so he studies with them instead.

(Slytherin scuttlebutt claims they’re his friends, too.)

At the end of the year, Seiji increases his margin in Defense; Shuuichi takes the top spot in Transfiguration but loses it in Herbology.  They both take the top spots in the electives they don’t share, and tie at Ancient Runes. 

“If you could let someone else out-score you for once, that would be great,” one of Shuuichi’s study partners -- who got second highest score at Arithmancy -- complains.  “The both of you are giving Ravenclaw a bad name.”

Shuuichi grins, broad and bright.  “You’ll just have to try harder, next year.” 

* * *

Fourth year, girls (and his Gryffindor partner-in-staying-awake in History of Magic) start noticing Shuuichi. 

He, to his mild horror, mostly just notices how well-suited Seiji is to the short ponytail that he often sports, now that his hair is long enough.

Shuuichi learns to wear his bright grin like a shield; to gently break hearts even as he wonders what the hell is going on with his own. 

(Seiji seems to be the same as ever, which is as reassuring as it is infuriating.)

Shuuichi closes the gap but doesn’t quite take the lead in Defense.  Loses Transfiguration.  They tie at Herbology.

These days, it’s a game more than anything else. 

(It’s still one he intends to _win_ , though.  Next year.)

* * *

Fifth year brings OWL preparation, a handful more crushes, and no respite in Shuuichi’s own.  One girl -- Slytherin, a year younger than them -- even confesses to Seiji. 

Shuuichi tries to convince himself that he’s not relieved when Seiji turns her down. 

It’s not like he even _likes_ Seiji half the time, even if he’s additionally horrified to find that he now thinks Seiji’s constant tendency towards condescension is more cute than offensive. And yet. 

Winter break, Seiji stays, like he has every year thus far -- until suddenly, he’s called home, halfway through. 

And returns, a little less than a week later, with a bandage over most of the right side of his head, a new position as the Head of the Ancient and Noble House Matoba, and a fixed, brittle version of his usual bland smile. 

Shuuichi spares a moment to be glad that the spring term has not yet started as he corners Seiji in their shared -- and currently otherwise empty -- dorm room.  “What happened? Are you all right?”  Pauses, adds “I’m sorry about your father,” because Seiji had always seemed to be on good terms with him. 

“Perfectly fine,” Seiji says breezily.  “The eye is a total loss, but I’m getting fitted for a replacement next Tuesday.  You’ll share your notes with me, if there’s anything worth mentioning?  And what do you think, should I get one that can zoom?”

“Zoom?” Shuuichi asks weakly.  “No, never mind that, what _happened_ , Seiji?”

“Do Muggles not have prosthetic eyes with zoom?  I suppose they wouldn’t, would they.  It costs a bit extra, but it could come in handy.  On the other hand, I’ll probably outgrow it in a year or so, so I don’t know that it’s worth it.” 

His smile slips, recovers, and his next words seem to be more self-directed than anything.  “I had hoped to wait until _after_ I stopped growing.”

Shuuichi clenches his fists, because the only alternative is shaking Seiji.  “You _expected_ to lose an eye?”

Seiji blinks, and something in his expression settles; becomes a little less brittle. “I wouldn’t say _expected_ ,” he says, effortlessly mimicking Shuuichi’s intonation.  “I had hoped to avoid it for a number of years yet.  But there hasn’t been a head of family who’s lived their whole life unscathed in over seven hundred years.  Given those odds ...”

He examines Shuuichi’s face more closely.  “Surely you’re not surprised? It’s an open secret, and a particularly badly kept one, at that.”

“I don’t typically indulge in in-depth investigations of my friends’ family history,” Shuuichi says testily, though now that he’s thinking about it, he _has_ heard rumors about the dangerous creatures the Matoba family keeps, and the terrible price they exact.  He’d just mostly ignored them as the usual exaggerations and jealousy. 

“Well that’s remarkably naïve of you,” Seiji says, and his smile cracks again.

“Seiji ...” Something is seriously wrong.  Shuuichi can almost _feel_ it.

\-- Well, if nothing else, all this standing around can’t be good for Seiji, not with who knows what damage done to his head.  “Sit.”

“I am perfectly fine.” Seiji draws himself taller.  He doesn’t sway, but now that Shuuichi’s looking for it, he can see the extra tension. 

“You’re babbling, is what you’re doing.  Sit anyway.” Shuuichi practically manhandles Seiji over to the nearest bed -- his own -- and pushes his shoulders downward. 

Seiji looks torn between grumpy and actively offended -- which is kind of adorable, but that’s the part of Shuuichi’s brain that is clearly off-task and he is _not listening to right now so just stop it_ \-- but the fact that he sits anyway, without any more stringent protest, is another bad sign. 

Shuuichi climbs deeper onto the bed and sits cross-legged; realizes too late that, sitting to Seiji’s right, he has to turn almost all the way around to see him. 

But he does, anyway. 

“Seiji,” Shuuichi repeats, softer now.  “What’s wrong?”

“Is that really a question you should be asking someone who just lost both his father and an eye?” Seiji asks, sounding almost his old self. 

“It is when it’s you,” Shuuichi replies.  “So?”

“... It shouldn’t have happened like this.” Seiji finally says, his gaze distant.  “My father ... he was not young when I was born.  We both knew that chances were good that I’d inherit at a relatively early age.  But not _this_ soon.”

“Are you afraid you’re not ready?”  Shuuichi asks.  Expecting scoffing, because Seiji has been preparing for this his entire life -- or at least as long as Shuuichi has known him; because Shuuichi has never seen him be unprepared for anything.

Expecting anything except for Seiji to look him straight in the eyes, smile gone, and say evenly, “I’m terrified.”

For a long, awkward moment, Shuuichi doesn’t know what to say.  Not to the words themselves, and perhaps even more than that, not to Seiji's unexpected blunt honesty.

(They are friends, yes, but they are also Slytherin.  Shuuichi has always held tight to his boundaries, and refrained from trespassing Seiji's own. Even more so, once he'd recognized his own greediness in wishing for more.)

Finally, "You'll do fine," he says quietly, confidently.

"That's an awfully broad statement to make, when you know nothing of what the position entails," Seiji says, with most of his usual sharpness. 

A part of Shuuichi regrets the lost vulnerability (the part that he is _ignoring_ , thank you), but mostly, he's glad to be back on familiar ground. 

"I know you," he says.

Seiji stares at him for a moment more. Snorts, suddenly and indelicately, and smiles. "You are _such_ a Hufflepuff."

Shuuichi pushes him off the bed.

* * *

"What do you need to know?" Shuuichi asks.

“Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, Defense, Charms,” Seiji rattles off.  “Everything.  One never knows what might come in handy, after all.”

“Oh, is that all?” Shuuichi says dryly.  “I can’t help with Creatures, unless you were thinking of doing extracurricular theoretical studies?”

He’s never cared much for creatures -- there’s a reason the greatest gap in their Defense scores came in third year, with its focus on them -- but he also hasn’t gotten this far without a healthy respect for _all_ knowledge. 

“The Creatures curriculum here is _infantile_ ,” Seiji says, with greater than usual disdain.  His new eye -- a shade of red just enough brighter than the mahogany of the other to make people look twice -- rolls. 

Shuuichi takes that as confirmation enough.

* * *

That they both get all Os in their OWLs is a foregone conclusion.

(Shuuichi had barely noticed the other fifth-years panicking about the OWLs; his and Seiji’s study plans had barely changed in response, except for more frequent distractions due to the irritatingly higher levels of extra homework.)

Urihime gets more exercise than ever as they discuss their reading, study plans, theories, Seiji’s experiments --

(Shuuichi’s seventeenth birthday has never felt further away.)

He asks, once, if their correspondence is interfering with Seiji’s new duties. Seiji’s response ignores the question completely. 

Shuuichi takes that as a ‘no’.

* * *

Despite not having any Ministry-administered tests that will help decide their eventual fates, the sixth-year workload is heavier than ever.  

Shuuichi plays with the idea of dropping Astronomy but ultimately keeps it -- he knows that attempting nine NEWT courses _and_ trying to keep up with Seiji’s Creatures self-study is asking for trouble, but it’s one of his courses with the lightest workload and although he doesn’t think he’ll need an easy ‘O’ to meet the Auror requirements, it certainly couldn’t hurt. 

Seiji _does_ drop History of Magic.  Shuuichi feels smugly superior, then guilty, then reminds himself that Seiji neither wants nor needs his pity, then returns to feeling smug.  (It doesn’t feel quite as good, though.)

Seiji would have dropped Care for Magical Creatures, too -- apparently the sixth-year curriculum looks likely to be just as useless as the first three -- but despite the fact that he will not be working for the Ministry, some level of official licensing is apparently “strongly encouraged”, and for that he needs his NEWT as well as his OWL.

(Shuuichi still doesn’t know much about what Seiji and his family do, other than the fact that it involves dangerous magical creatures, the foremost among whom being the one who gouged out Seiji’s eye.  Actively seeking out rumors is surprisingly unhelpful -- no one else seems to know much, either, other than the fact that Matoba clan heads have a strong tendency towards bodily, and especially facial, injuries.  And Seiji had already as much as told him that.)

(Actively seeking out rumors does give him a much greater appreciation for how feared and distrusted the Matoba family is.  But he doesn’t even bother to pity Seiji for that; not when he’s seen Seiji carefully cultivating that reputation.)

“Do let me know if you learn anything useful in History,” Seiji says. 

Shuuichi opens his mouth.

“And I know you find them interesting for some strange reason, but no, the Goblin Wars don’t count.”

Shuuichi makes a face at him and is rewarded by Seiji’s slightly-larger-than-usual “I find you ridiculous and amusing” smile.

(It shouldn’t feel like as much of a reward as it does, but by now he’s essentially resigned to his fate.)

* * *

Seiji goes home for Christmas and Shuuichi spends the entire time nearly insane with worry.  He knows Seiji can take care of himself, but. 

He distracts himself by completing all of his winter homework in record time and reading two and a half of the books on Dark Creatures lined up on the small bookshelf next to Seiji’s bed.  One of the Gryffindor seventh years staying over sees him reading it -- even Shuuichi can only spend so many hours holed up in his dorm or the Slytherin common room -- and starts making nasty comments. Shuuichi immobilizes him between one page and the next, barely even looking up.  After a few seconds, he realizes that the other boy isn’t even _trying_ to break the spell and stands, shaking his head. 

“If you can’t even stand up against me, what hope would you have against a --” he makes a show of checking his current page “-- bicorn?”

The Gryffindor glares.

Shuuichi rolls his eyes and pointedly steps over his head, on alert just in case the Gryffindor is trying to lull him into a false sense of security. 

But that would probably be against their code of honor or something. 

He was getting kind of tired of sitting in the library, anyway.

* * *

Seiji comes back from winter break tired but unharmed, and proceeds to mock Shuuichi for worrying about him.  Shuuichi protests that he did nothing of the sort.  Neither of them are fooled. 

He disappears over Easter, too, despite the fact that it’s not an official school holiday.  Certain sections of the rumor mill complains about purebloods who think they’re better than everyone else and speculates about what horrible, Dark things Seiji might be getting up to while he’s gone. 

Shuuichi doesn’t react obviously -- he’s been in Slytherin far too long for that; there’s no benefit and a great deal of potential harm to making his ties to Seiji that blatantly obvious.  But a few of the worst, most malicious rumor-mongers end up encountering minor … accidents. 

The Tuesday after Easter, Seiji returns, appearing no worse than a bit tired. Until he collapses in the middle of Herbology, and it’s only Shuuichi’s quick actions that keep him from face-planting into something that one should definitely not plant one’s face in.  He drags Seiji to the Hospital Wing and sits beside his bed until he wakes up. 

(He clutches his hand, half-unaware of the fact that he’s doing so, until he feels Seiji stir.  Then he drops it in a fit of sudden self-consciousness.  Did anyone see?  No one but the Matron, he thinks.  Still, it’s a lapse that shouldn’t have happened.)

Seiji’s visible eye blinks open.  “Shuuichi?” he asks, clearly still a bit fuzzy.

“What _happened_?”

“Don’t start that again.” Seiji attempts to sit up, wavers, and falls back even before Shuuichi has a chance to tell him off.  “I’m fine.  Just a bit … exhausted.”

Shuuichi does his best to look as skeptical as humanly possible. 

Seiji snorts.  “ _Really_.  Stop worrying.”

Shuuichi fears that it’s far too late for that.

* * *

Shuuichi takes the top score in everything except Care for Magical Creatures (obviously) and Defense.  Not by much, in the case of Transfiguration and Potions.  But. 

Seiji’s congratulations are that particular brand of apparently-insincere that is about as close to sincerity as he is usually willing to let anyone else see.

Shuuichi worries anyway.

The first half of the summer, they exchange the usual flood of letters.  But then Seiji’s replies start getting shorter, cagier, more distant. 

And then they stop completely. 

After the first letter that gets no reply, Shuuichi sends three more in fairly quick succession, their contents increasingly pointed requests for some reply, any reply at all. 

Nothing.

He’d storm the Matoba property if he had any idea where that was.  But while he’s pretty sure it’s somewhere in northern Scotland, that’s still a lot of ground to cover looking for something that’s probably spelled against intruders in at least a dozen ways (and probably half of them fatal). 

So he tells himself that he’ll track Seiji down and ask him once they get back to school.  (He doesn’t let himself think about the alternative.)

The rest of the summer is even worse than the previous winter break. 

The only bright spot is the two days he takes to go apartment hunting in Diagon Alley.  (There’s no way he’s staying in his father’s house any longer than he is legally obligated to.) He finds a couple of reasonable-looking options and is halfway through a letter to Seiji describing them when he remembers and crumples the paper up, unfinished. 

He’d set it on fire, if he was allowed to do magic. 

He’d even settle for chucking it in the fireplace, if they had one that worked. 

He tears it into tiny pieces, instead. 

* * *

 

At Platform 9¾ Shuuichi sees a flag of silky black hair (his hormones are depressingly pleased with Seiji’s decision to continue growing it out) in passing, but by the time he turns, it’s disappeared. 

Seiji doesn’t appear in his compartment, and Shuuichi rides the Express alone for the first time since first year. 

He doesn’t see him in the carriages, either, and by the time he enters the Great Hall, Seiji’s already there, surrounded on all sides by people three layers deep.  He doesn’t look in Shuuichi’s direction at all. 

He looks well, otherwise, which is as much a relief as it is infuriating, because if that’s not his problem, then what _is_? Because Shuuichi isn’t blind; there’s no way Seiji is doing anything but intentionally avoiding him. 

He knows better than to demand a public explanation, but as the days pass, he becomes increasingly tempted, because Seiji is just far too good at avoiding him every single _other_ moment of the day. 

He doesn’t get his chance until nearly two weeks after school starts, and even then it’s an accident: he goes back to his room to retrieve a book he needs for his Arithmancy study session, and finds Seiji there, frowning as he pages through yet another book. 

He doesn’t seem to notice Shuuichi standing, stunned, at the entrance to the room.  But he looks up soon enough when Shuuichi steps further into the room, closes the door, and applies five different layers of locking and silencing wards. 

“That’s a bit overkill, isn’t it?” Seiji says mildly. “Or underkill, I’m not sure which.”

“I’m well aware you can break through all of them,” Shuuichi agrees, almost cheerfully. “But it’ll delay you long enough for me to fall back to Plan B.”

He’s thought over this confrontation a dozen times in his head, each time more fraught and angry than the last, but with Seiji behaving the same as always, it’s all too easy to fall back into their old comradery instead. 

“And what is Plan B?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  Tackle you, maybe.” Shuuichi shrugs as he settles on his bed.

Seiji turns to face him. “You are such a Gryffindor.”

“ ‘Any means to achieve their ends’,” Shuuichi sing-songs, making a point of examining his green and silver scarf.

“And what is your end?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Shuuichi meets Seiji’s eyes. “I want to know why.”

“I don’t know what could have given you that impression,” Seiji says.  His face doesn’t change, his shoulders don’t tense -- but his magical eye twitches slightly. 

Not like Shuuichi wouldn’t have known he was lying, anyway. 

He crosses his arms and waits. 

And soon remembers why he stopped trying to engage in staring contests with Seiji somewhere around the middle of second year. 

“It can’t have been my laughable incompetence when it comes to Creatures,” he says, to fill the silence.  “My last letter can’t have been _that_ bad.  Our friendship survived third-year Defense, after all.”

“Perhaps it shouldn’t have,” Seiji says.  Quietly, so quietly that Shuuichi might have believed he’d imagined it, if not for the chagrined shrinking of his smile. 

Still.  “What?” Shuuichi asks.

“You’d have scored higher on the Creatures OWL than any of the rest of the buffoons in that class, and you know it,” Seiji says. 

Shuuichi stomps _hard_ on the warmth threatening to spread throughout his body.  Stupid feelings.  “Stop trying to distract me with praise.  What do you mean, it would have been better if our friendship hadn’t survived third year?”

“I said ‘perhaps’,” Seiji clarifies, nettled.  Closes his eyes briefly, and sighs.  “Very well.  But if you’ve recognized I’m avoiding you, surely you’ve realized why.”

“… Enlighten me.” Even though Shuuichi is suddenly not so sure that he wants to have this conversation after all. 

Ah.  Seiji’s ‘I can’t believe you’re such a Muggle’ look. It’s been a while since Shuuichi’s seen that one. 

“I am the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Matoba,” Seiji says, each word precise enough to cut.  “You are planning to become an Auror.”

Shuuichi wonders, suddenly, if Seiji remembers their conversation in second year as clearly as he does.

He understands Seiji’s words then a lot better now. 

“So?”

Seiji straightens further.  His words are as stiff as his back.  “I would not ask you to sacrifice your integrity --”

So that would be confirmation, if he’d needed any, that not everything the Matoba family did was entirely legal.  “I wouldn’t raid _you_.”

Seiji raises a single eyebrow. 

… Aurors were probably supposed to at least pretend to have more of a moral compass than that, weren’t they. 

“So I won’t become an Auror,” Shuuichi says.  “Problem solved.”

“ _No_.” Seiji half-rises, appears to think better of it, settles back into his seat.  When he speaks, his voice is even stiffer than before.  “Nor would I ask you to sacrifice your dreams for my sake --”

“I wouldn’t,” Shuuichi says.  Hopes he’s right. “But where did you get the idea that being an Auror is my dream?”

“You said as much yourself.”

“I had a Muggleborn second-year’s understanding of the Wizarding World and a desperate need to prove myself,” Shuuichi says dryly.  He wouldn’t lie and say that that was no longer there, but. Somewhere along the line, it had faded.  He no longer cares quite as much what the rest of the world thinks, perhaps.  “I still want to do something … _meaningful_ with all this power I hold at my fingertips.  Protect someone, if I can figure out how.”

_Protect you_ , he wants to say, even though he knows Seiji would never let him.

“None of that has anything, _necessarily_ , to do with being an Auror.  I’d actually been playing with the idea of switching over to Curse-Breaking anyway.  I hear you have to deal with fewer people.”

“Generally.  Though a lot more goblins.” Seiji still looks a bit thrown. 

“So if you were just avoiding me out of some misguided desire to ‘protect’ me …”

“That’s --” Seiji sighs again.  “Shuuichi.  You knew, didn’t you, that all this would have to end someday?  House Matoba is not a comfortable place to associate with, regardless of your occupation.  It would be best for you to --”

“Why don’t you let me decide what’s best for myself?” Shuuichi asks.  “And I’m not associating with House Matoba, I’m associating with _you_.”

Seiji gives that statement the withering look it deserved. 

Shuuichi tries again.  “You befriended me despite my background.  Why shouldn’t I stay your friend despite yours?”

Seiji looks briefly sour.  “Blood purity is nonsense.” A quick shake of his head.  “It would be easier --”

“Maybe I’m not interested in easy.”

“ _That_ much is obvious.” Seiji meets his eyes, and the carefully hidden vulnerability there reminds him uncomfortably of fifth year, of a bandage wrapped around where a slightly-too-bright eye now sits.  “Why, though?  It will only cause you more trouble, later.”

“Because I love you, idiot.”

Shuuichi freezes.  That was _not_ what he’d meant to say.

He finds himself in front of the door with no memory of having walked there, tugging at the handle for one dazed moment before he remembers the locking charms that he himself had applied. 

But just as he finishes unraveling the second, another shoots past his ear with a crackle of blue-green light. 

Shuuichi slowly turns. 

Seiji stands, wand in hand, near the foot of his bed. (It still feels too close.)

“Forget I said anything,” Shuuichi says.  Just in case it works. 

“I don’t think I will,” Seiji replies.  “Did you mean it?”

Unfortunately, Seiji is even better at seeing through Shuuichi’s lies than Shuuichi is at seeing through his.

He sighs and leans back against the door. “Yes.”

“How long?” Seiji takes a step forward.

“If you’re just trying to gather ammunition --”

“How long, Shuuichi?”

Shuuichi throws up his hands.  “Fine.  Fourth year.  When I realized the reason I wasn’t interested in anyone else was that I was already too busy looking at you.”

Seiji drifts another step forward. “Ah.  I see I once again have you beat.”

He’s definitely too close now.  Shuuichi would back up if he had anywhere to go. 

And if he wasn’t too busy processing the implications of that statement. “Wait -- you mean --”

There’s a smug light in Seiji’s eyes that Shuuichi definitely shouldn’t find as compelling as he does.  “Probably since the moment you informed me in that ridiculously self-righteous tone of yours that _I_ was _pronouncing things wrong_.”

There are so many things wrong with that statement that Shuuichi doesn’t know where to start. “For one thing, I do _not_ sound like that.  And I do _not_ sound self-righteous.  And --”

Seiji reaches up to touch his cheek

(Far, _far_ too close)

and everything else spirals away. 

Shuuichi will never quite remember which of them leaned in first, or farthest, only the inevitability of their meeting.  (Though they’ll argue the details occasionally, anyway.)

“—and you _were_.”

“I was,” Seiji agrees pleasantly, and leans back in.

His hair feels as silky as it looks, especially once freed from its ever-present ponytail. 

“I’m going to want that hair-tie back.”

“I’ll help you find it.”

Seiji’s hand trails fire up his cheek and into his own much shorter hair.

If Shuuichi was lost before, he is beyond recovery now. 

Seiji pulls away.  Shuuichi opens his eyes to see Seiji’s are close and far too serious. 

“You’d be better off if you left.”

“You lost your last chance to convince me of that when you didn’t let me walk out.”

Seiji’s lips quirk.  “I am only human.”

Shuuichi grins and tilts his head forward slightly, bumping Seiji’s forehead with his own.  “Then you’ll just have to deal with the consequences.”

Seiji huffs a quiet laugh.  “I suppose I will.”

* * *

Not a whole lot changes.

Well, Seiji stops avoiding him, and the handful of rumors about the state of their friendship grumble and subside back into status quo. 

(Shuuichi realized long ago that associating himself with Seiji meant that he would never be entirely free of rumors.)

(Of course, being the first Natori the Wizarding World has seen in many years has never hurt.)

Shuuichi officially changes his desired occupation from Auror to Curse-Breaker.  Not that it makes much of a difference -- he’s already taking all the classes he’ll need.

They talk, argue, study, argue some more. 

(Occasionally they disappear into abandoned corridors or carefully warded-to-be-private corners and reappear sometime later, not a hair or crease out of place.  But who’s counting?)

Seiji disappears over winter break and over Easter again, and Shuuichi waits, hating that there’s nothing else he can do.  Hating, too, the knowledge that this is one thing that will never change:  he will never be a Matoba, and there are some parts of his life that Seiji will probably never allow him entrance into.  Things he’ll never be able to protect him from.

When Seiji returns, Shuuichi wants to tackle him; wants to carefully examine every inch to make sure he’s as fine as he claims he is. 

But neither of them is terribly interested in dealing with the fallout just yet, so he carefully shows neither more nor less concern than in previous years and saves everything else for when they’re alone.

(Seiji _is_ fine, this time.)

* * *

They both get all the Os on their NEWTs that they need to pursue their chosen careers, though they only receive Es in Herbology and Shuuichi falls to E in Astronomy, too.

Shuuichi is briefly disappointed, but -- would he really have wanted to use that lost study time any other way?

* * *

“Thanks again for helping me move,” Shuuichi says, settling the last bookcase into place with a satisfied flick of his wand.  It’s a smallish place -- one bedroom and a combined living room/kitchen area that’s only just barely bigger -- but clean and fairly cheap and _not his father’s house._

“It is important to know one’s Destination,” Seiji intones, sounding so like their Apparition instructor that Shuuichi gives in to the urge to silently flip a pillow at his head.  Even though he warms at the implied promise to come back. 

Seiji catches it, of course, and tosses it back on the bed.  Then, after a moment’s thought, settles on it himself.  “Not half bad.” 

The bed is new -- Shuuichi’s first major expense -- and king-sized.  The mattress is far more comfortable than the one back at his father’s house, though still not quite the same as Hogwarts. 

“That’s one of the first things you ever said to me -- do you remember? I was so angry.”

“Hah.  It was, wasn’t it.” Seiji glances up, mischievous. “I snared you eventually, though.”

“If you tell me it was all part of your plan, I won’t believe you,” Shuuichi says.  He looks around the room, decides it’s unpacked enough for now, and settles onto the bed, snaking his right foot behind Seiji’s left and leaning in as Seiji’s arm settles around his waist.  They can do that, now, without having to consider who might be watching and what they might say. 

“I will spare myself the effort, then.”

Seiji is frowning, very slightly.  Shuuichi nudges him.  “What’s wrong now?”

“Hm? Ah.  Just … thinking. It’s a long road ahead, and likely an unkind one.”

It doesn’t take a genius to recognize the likely trigger for his thoughts, but Shuuichi appreciates that Seiji’s stopped asking him if he’s _sure_. 

That’s one answer that won’t change. 

He doesn’t know about Seiji, but Shuuichi refuses to regret any of it. 

(Not even the parts where all he can do is wait and worry.)

Shuuichi briefly raises the shoulder not firmly settled against Seiji’s side.  “What else is new?  If I wanted to live a quiet, uninteresting life, I’d have ignored my Hogwarts letter.” Considers some of the rumors he’s heard about the consequences of that.  “Or written back to say ‘no thanks’.”

“… I’m glad you didn’t.”

“So am I,” Shuuichi says.  “So don’t worry so much.  Whatever the future throws at us, we’ll figure it out together.”

“… … You are _such_ a Gryffindor.”

Shuuichi pushes him off the bed. 

And Seiji laughs.


End file.
